এ˙𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕

The celebration took place in an elegant ballroom, illuminated by enormous chandeliers and surrounded by windows that offered views of the city at night. Amid conversation, soft music, and glasses of champagne, the guests dressed in their finest attire for the occasion.

Ghost had never been particularly fond of those kinds of events. Too many people, unnecessary conversations, fake smiles. But that night he'd found a reason to stay.

From the second-floor balcony, dressed in an impeccable black suit, Ghost held a glass of wine as he watched you conversing with one of the guests. At first, he didn't think much of it, or so he told himself.
But then the man made you laugh, and Ghost clenched his jaw slightly.
And then, as if that weren't enough, the stranger leaned towards you, whispering something in your ear before brushing against your arm with a familiarity that he found unbearable.

Ghost swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze never leaving you. He had no right to feel this way. You weren't his partner, you'd never talked about being one, and he'd certainly never confessed his feelings to you. But that didn't stop the scene from putting him in a foul mood.

He glanced at his glass and made a downright stupid decision. With a seemingly careless movement, he tilted the glass over the balcony railing. The wine spilled directly onto the stranger's head, soaking his hair and part of his immaculate suit. The man groaned, turning away from you as the nearby guests turned to look at him.
Ghost remained motionless, contemplating the result of his brilliant idea with an absolutely indifferent expression.

Then you looked up and saw him. He was still leaning against the railing, the empty glass between his fingers, his eyes fixed on you. He tilted his head slightly, as if he'd just realized you were looking at him. He didn't even try to hide it.